Page 2 of Claim Me, Colt
"Do you have cell service up here?" she asks.
I shake my head. "Tower's thirty miles east. You're not getting signal until you're back on the main road."
She pulls out her phone anyway—a thin thing with a shiny metallic finish that probably costs more than most people make in a month. The screen shows no bars, just like I told her.
"Of course not," she mutters, swiping at a smudge of mud on her cheek. "That would've been too convenient."
Her voice cracks just slightly at the edges.She’s exhausted and angry. Not fragile… just stretched to the breaking point.
I should point her in the direction of town and send her on her way. But something about the way she's standing there—designer dress destroyed, makeup smeared, expensive heels dangling useless from her fingers, yet refusing to look defeated—gets under my skin.
Maybe it's the way she climbed out of that wreck without crying for help.
Maybe it's how she's not asking me to fix anything for her.
Or maybe it's just that she looks like she understands what it means to want to disappear.
"My cabin’s about a mile up the ridge," I hear myself saying. "It has hot water, food, and dry clothes."
She tilts her head, studying me with those sharp green eyes like she's trying to solve a puzzle. "You live out here alone?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
The question hits different than I expected. Most people ask where I came from or what I do for work. She cuts straight to thewhy.
"Because people complicate things," I say. "Trees don't."
She doesn't flinch at the bluntness. Just nods slowly, like that makes perfect sense to her.
"Okay," she says simply. "Lead the way.”
She follows close as I cut through the trees along a path only I know, stepping carefully over roots and rocks in her bare feet. She doesn't complain about the rough ground or the chilly spring day or ask how much further. Doesn't try to fill the silence with nervous chatter.
She just moves quietly through the forest while the first fat raindrops start filtering through the canopy.
By the time we reach the cabin, the wind's picking up in earnest, sending leaves spiraling across the clearing. She pauses at the bottom of the porch steps, looking up at the log structure I refurbished with my own hands after I came back from my third deployment. It was a dilapidated hovel when I bought it. Now… well, it's not fancy but it’s solid. Weathered cedar logs, tin roof, wraparound porch with a swing I never use. But it's mine, and it's been my sanctuary for five years now.
"You built this?" she asks, running her fingers along the smooth porch rail.
"More or less."
She nods appreciatively. "It's beautiful. Feels... safe."
That word—safe—does something to me I don't want to examine too closely.
"You want a place to hide from whatever you're running from?" I push open the front door, gesture her inside. "This is it."
She steps over the threshold without hesitation, and I catch a hint of her scent as she passes—something expensive and floral beneath the creek water and mud.
"Thank you," she says quietly, turning to face me in the warm lamplight. “I really appreciate it, Mr...” Her voice trails off as she waits for my name.
“Call me Colt,” I say, my voice gruff.
“Thank you, Colt,” she says, flashing me a dazzling smile. “I’m Simone.”
She steps inside, and I lock the door. Not to keep her prisoner, but to keep her demons—whatever they may be—from barging in after her.I’ll protect her from whatever’s chasing her.
